


Chris Evans x Wife!Reader Series

by AveryWinchester



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Pregnancy, Press and Tabloids, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveryWinchester/pseuds/AveryWinchester





	1. Chapter 1

**(Gif not mine)**

It was Superbowl weekend and you and your husband, Chris, and the accessory that about done baking in your belly, made it to Texas. You were nearing your due date - _2 more weeks_ \- and you wanted to get one last _hurrah_ in. Especially your amazing husband of two years.  
  
He had been driving himself, and you, crazy in preparation for the arrival of your baby girl. So you had arranged for your husband to be in an attendance for this game. Since his team had made it to the game of the year.  
  
_Again_ …  
  
As much as you hated when he _fanboyed_ over the **Patriots** , you know, since your team hadn’t been to the Superbowl since the nineties. And to bring insult to injury, they were playing in your team’s stadium.  
  
But because you loved this man more than life, you put your pride aside (this time) and offered to help him relax.  
  
The game was just two days away, so a buddy of his from Boston, who now resided in Texas, invited the two of you over to his place for a pregame pregame Superbowl party  
  
So, here the two of you were. Your husband incognito in a pair of blue jeans, dark brown t shirt underneath a dark blue unbuttoned flannel, and that damn **NASA** baseball cap, that you told him that he would one day find it in the fire place of your home back in Boston, secured on his head. You were dressed in jeans that actually fit your thick thighs, wide set of hips, and ever expanding belly, along with one of your husband’s shirts. Being that you were in the last trimester of your pregnancy, you had grown accustomed to wearing Chris’s clothes. It gave you a sense of comfort and it smelled exactly like him.

You were also wearing a ball cap of your own. Even if your team did not make it to the big game, you had to represent and show your love and support.  
  
From your corner, sipping on your lemonade and club soda mix -the only thing your daughter would allow you to drink- you watched your husband in his element. Chris was playing a game of beer pong with Troy, his buddy from back home, sipping on his now third or fourth beer. He had thrown his head back in laughter, and it made your heart swelled. Definitely worth the agony of having to watch the **Patriots** in yet another _Superbowl_.  
  
Chris then looked over at you, giving you a wink. You smiled, giving him a small wave with the hand that was resting on your belly. He then beckoned you over with the crook of his index finger.

You shook your head, waddling your way over to the game table. “Yes, my dear, you summoned?”  
  
He threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close, before leaning down into your ear. “You alright?”  
  
“I’m good.”  
  
He pulled back, his blue eyes looking down into yours. “You sure?” He released your shoulder, splaying his large hand across your belly. “How’s my baby girl?” 

And at the sound of his voice, the little girl inside you kicked.  
  
“She’s fine.” You placed your hand against his. “Moving a lot more now that she hears your voice.” You went to move his hand to the side of your stomach where her foot was steady pushing.  
  
It never failed, no matter how many times Chris felt her moving, it was always felt like the first time for him.  
  
“Already a daddy’s girl.”  
  
“ _That_ ,” she kicked again, “she is.”  
  
Chris smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, and in that moment your daughter shifted slightly, setting herself directly on your bladder.  
  
You groaned, pulling away from your husband. “I need a bathroom.”  
  
“Everything alright?” You saw panic in his eyes. The same panic he had when he was assembling your daughter’s crib.  
  
You giggled, brushing your hand across his fully formed beard. “Babe, I’m fine. Your daughter is just sitting on my bladder.”  
  
Chris gave a small chuckle, leaning over to ask Troy for a bathroom. You watched as Troy gave your husband directions that you couldn’t hear over the music. Chris then turned to you.  
  
“Upstairs. First door on the left.” He told you. “You want me to go with you?”  
  
You shook your head. “No, I can handle it. You enjoy your time.” You stood on your tip toes, giving Chris another kiss, as he reached down to give your ass a small squeeze.  
  
You giggled, pulling yourself away, as he playfully rolled his eyes at your cap, going to flick it off your head. But you were quick on your reflexes, smacking his hand away, fixing the hat, and the reaching out to twist his left nipple.  
  
He yelped, laughing and rubbing the sore spot on his chest. To add insult to injury, holding the cap firmly down on your head, you stuck your tongue out at your husband, before retreating from his sight.  
  
Minutes later, you returned downstairs back to the party, your bladder now empty. The music, old school hip hop, blared on the surround sound speakers. 

You stifled a giggle, looking over at your husband, very frat boy like, dancing completely off rhythm, to the music. Your hand immediately went to your belly, as you prayed that your daughter does not inherit her father’s rhythm.  
  
That moment was short-lived when your eyes scanned the small crowd of people at the party, and landed on two giggling girls. One, blonde. One, brunette. The brunette had her craptastically bedazzled smart phone out and pointed directly at Chris, who was still dancing, oblivious to the fact that he was being filmed.  
  
_Ugh_. This was supposed to be relaxing.  
  
You eyed the giggle twins for a few more seconds, before deciding you had had enough, and you needed to interfere.  
  
Hand on belly, you waddled up to both girls, tapping Miss Brunette on the shoulder. She turned around, eyes immediately going wide, as she nudged her friend.  
  
You swallowed down what you knew was inevitable and posted a smile on your face. The smile that got you the cover of PEOPLE’s magazine two years in a row. “Excuse me, ladies,”  
  
“ _Oh my God_.” The blonde squealed, cutting you off. “Do you know who you are?” She questioned, running hand through her hair. “Obviously you know who you are, duh.” She giggled, and you immediately knew that she on the tipsy side. And then she had the nerve to ask, “can I get a selfie?”  
  
You took in a deep breath, one hand on your hip, the other fixing the _Dallas Cowboys_ cap on your head. You wanted to tell those girls off, but you needed to be civilized. “Ladies, I don’t mean to be rude, but this not the time nor the place, ok. We just wanted to relax and have a good time with friends. Could you please just put your phones down?”  
  
The smile that blondie had, had quickly disappeared, and replaced with a botoxed looking frown. “I’m sorry, _I_ don’t mean to be rude, but who died and made you the phone police.” She screeched, and her buxom brunette haired friend, giggled.  
  
_Ok, so I guess being nice was not going to work_. You thought to yourself. “Well, you are filming my husband without his permission. So, if that makes me the phone police, than so be it.”  
  
“Well,” the brunette stepped in, glaring, “it’s a free country. We can do whatever the hell we want.”  
  
“ _Right_.” Blondie agreed.  
  
Again, you took in a deep breath, trying to count backwards. These bitches were pushing your buttons. “I’m not going to ask you again, ladies. I’m being nice here. Please, just put down your phone.”  
  
The brunette rolled her eyes, and then decided to shove her phone in your face. “ _There_ , how about you smile for the camera.”  She and blondie both started the giggles again.  
  
_Yep, you were officially done_. “Really? Is that the way you want to play it?” You went to reach out and destroy that piece of shit she calls a phone, when you were pulled back into a warm embrace.  
  
“Baby, they are not worth it.” You heard Chris whisper in your ear, slightly pulling you away from those girls.  
  
“Is there a problem here?” You turned your attention to Troy, who was now standing between the three of you  
  
“ _T-Dogg_ ,” the blonde, reached out to squeeze Troy’s bicep, “you didn’t tell us that you were friends with **Captain America**.” She giggled softly, almost losing her balance  
  
Troy ran a hand across his face. “Well, that’s something I don’t go shouting from the rooftops.”  
  
“I would.” The brunette then giggled herself.  
  
“Of course you would.” You sneered, rolling your eyes, and Chris squeezed your hip.  
  
“ _Stop_.”  He whispered, lips attached to your temple.  
  
“Look,” Troy began, “they’re not going to ask you for your footage, but since you have disrespected my house and my friends.” He pointed to the two of you. “I’m gonna ask you to leave.”  
  
“ _Troy_?!” The blonde screeched, obviously not seeing that one coming.  
  
“ _Now_ , Lucy.” He demanded.  
  
The blonde, now known as, Lucy, scoffed and dragged her friend away.  
  
Troy then turned around to you and Chris. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I thought shit would be cool.”  
  
“It’s fine, _T-Dogg_.” Chris teased, patting his friend’s arm. “Comes with the package.”  
  
“It sucks though.” Troy sympathized, looking directly at you, as you were still pretty pissed.  
  
Chris shrugged. “Yeah, what are you gonna do.”  
  
Troy just nodded, as he patted Chris’s back and walked away.  
  
Chris sighed heavily, turning to face you, as he gave your shoulders a small squeeze. “You need to calm down. Those girls were not worth it, babe.”  
  
You had your arms folded across your chest, as they sat comfortably on your high belly. You then looked up into your husband’s beautiful blue eyes, and your angered melted away. You sighed, placing your now unfolded hands on his biceps. “Baby, I know. It’s just, you’ve been so stressed with everything. And you were having a good time, and those bitches ruined it. Now, we both are gonna be on TMZ by tomorrow.” You pouted.  
  
“I love you.” He looked down at you. “Have I told you that today?” He questioned, and you gave him a slight nod. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his strong arms around you. “I am _so_ in love with you, and I can never show you how grateful I am for you,” he kissed the top of your head. “But I can’t ever relax or have a good time when I know you’re in trouble. Especially, now,” he placed his hand on your belly, rubbing soothingly. “You two are what’s most important in my life right now. And my face on TMZ doesn’t fucking matter, ok?”  
  
You snuggled closer to your husband, nodding your head into his chest.  
  
You looked back up at him and smiled. “I love you too.”  
  
“You better.” He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss. “Come on,” he kissed you again, “let’s get you out of here.”  
  
He wrapped his arms around your shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his waist. You told Troy you were heading out, and left the party to return to the luxury hotel you were staying in.


	2. Red Carpet Jitters

**(gif not mine)**

  


Chris Evans was standing dressed in his best on the red carpet for the premiere of the newest Avengers movie. This was his very first red carpet appearance since the two of you got married two weeks ago.  
  
News had been buzzing for days about your very secret nuptials. It was so secret that your guests, who thought they were there to celebrate your engagement, were surprised when you showed up in your wedding dress, while you and Chris exchanged vows moments later.  
  
Both you and Chris, much like most of your relationship and engagement, wanted to keep this to yourselves for awhile. You just wanted to enjoy being husband and wife before the press found out and started hounding you with future plans of starting a family. Which, you and Chris were definitely excited to be practicing. The two of you had a date set for when you were going to announce that you had gotten hitched, but that didn’t stop the vultures from their prying.  
  
Chris, who smiled coyly at the flashing photographers, gave a small wave and a curt nod. He was nervous, and his anxiety was on high level, which he tried to calm with shots of whiskey earlier with Renner and Scarlett. But with every scream of the paparazzi, his nerves seemed to grow more intense.  
  
He made his way down the carpet, saying his hellos to his fellow cast mates, sharing jokes with his buddies, Mackie and Stan. Luckily most of the interviewers, kept it professional with their questions, only asking about the film and his future projects. Even asking him to give a shout out to another country.  
  
His last stop was Nancy O’Dell from Entertainment Tonight. She’s interviewed him plenty of times before, and she was never too shy to get personal with him. And that scared the living hell out of him.  
  
“Here we have Chris Evans, ladies and gentlemen,” the beautiful, older blonde celebrity anchor announced as Chris stepped up to his spot next to her. They exchanged a casual hug. “How are you feeling tonight? You look amazing.”  
  
Chris cleared his throat, running a hand across his tie. “Thank you. I’m feeling pretty good. How are you?”  
  
“I’m great thank you.” She smiled, leaning into him. “Look, I know that this is your movie premiere, and it’s already been getting major buzz, since it’s the second installment of the Avengers. How did it feel to put that Cap suit back on?”

“A little tight.” He joked, causing Nancy to laugh. “No, it was amazing. Being on set with some of my closest friends, made a for a great experience.”

“Well that’s good.” She nodded. “Aside from the movie premiere here tonight, I feel like there are just a few things we need to get cleared up. Maybe some rumors you want to address?”  
  
He chuckled softly, feeling completely nervous. He knew exactly what exactly this was. “That depends on what it is?”  
  
“Well,” she paused for dramatic effect, “is Chris Evans officially off the market?”  
  
 _Yep, she went there_.  
  
“Oh,” he jerked his head back, as he finally started to feel the whiskey warming his system. “Oh,” he repeated over and over.  
  
“I mean is it true?” She questioned him, trying to get a glimpse of the wedding ring on his left hand.  
  
“We’re not doing that.” He shook a finger at her, laughing.  
  
“Why not? I know everybody at home,” she pointed to the camera, “would love to know if their favorite superhero married his beautifully, talented heroine.”  
  
“ _Sh_ ,” he shushed her, leaning to stroke her microphone. “ _Sh, sh, shhh_.”  
  
“He’s petting my mic.” She, again, turned to the camera, giggling. “So, is this your way of leaving this one alone?”  
  
He looked back up at her, and shrugged. “I mean, you will know when it happens. But we both are happy where we are right now.”  
  
“And that’s all that matters?” She questioned, and he just nodded, stuffing his hands back in his pants. “Well, we appreciate the honesty, Chris. Good luck tonight.”  
  
“Thank you.” He smiled, giving her one last hug and walking away.  
  
He immediately pulled out his phone and started texting you.  
  
 ** _dodged that bullet_**  
  
His phone buzzed seconds later with your response.  
  
 _you get asked?_  
 _ **yep**_  
 _well it’s a good thing I have your ring with me_  
  
He smiled, again, typing adamantly on his phone.  
  
 ** _Yeah I’m going to need that back_**  
  
 _you’ll get it back soon_  
 _you’ll just have to take it off of me first_  
  
His phone buzzed a third time, but it was a picture of you. You were wearing his ring on a necklace around your neck. The ring laid softly against the valley of your breast that was dressed in a red lacey push-up bra. His _favorite_ bra.  
  
Chris sucked in a deep breath, staring down at the image in front of him. Goddamn it he missed you. He started typing again.  
  
 ** _Mrs. Evans you’re driving me fucking crazy_**  
  
 _well Mr. Evans my husband just abandoned me_  
 _what’s a girl to do_  
  
Before he started typing again, the three dotted bubble, as if you were still typing appeared on his screen, and within seconds another photo you showed up. This time it was matching laced thong you were wearing.  
  
 _ **Fuck this premiere**_  
 ** _I’m getting on a plane_**  
 ** _And coming home right now._**  
  
 _I’ll be waiting_  
  
Chris sighed heavily, stuffing the phone back in his pocket, and immediately tried to find the nearest exit. He needed to get home to you. And he needed to get home now.


End file.
